


Making Room

by CaitrionaBalfeStan



Series: Necessary Adjustments [2]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:40:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28658112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaitrionaBalfeStan/pseuds/CaitrionaBalfeStan
Summary: Second Arc to “Taking the Time.”Explores Claire and Jamie following the aftermath and how they are able to grow and heal.
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Series: Necessary Adjustments [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100228
Comments: 75
Kudos: 187





	1. Measuring Distance

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the 2nd Arc!  
> I don't know exactly how long this Arc will be, but it will be exploring the aftermath of Arc 1. It's not imperative to read "Taking the Time," but I would recommend it. It's pretty short so it won't take too long!
> 
> Enjoy!

The street below me buzzes with activity. People stumble out of pubs to hail cabs, those working late shove through the crowds without sparing a passing glance to them. The noise swells together and sounds more like a hoard of cicadas rather than humans.

I grip the glass of red wine between my fingers and sigh. The trial is tomorrow. The last three weeks have been dedicated to creating our case and figuring out how to send Tom away for good. Our lawyer -a severe but incredibly kind woman named Letitia,- has spent hundreds of hours with both Faith and me since I hired her. She’s ruthless and trying everything she can to help us.

Despite her assurance that he will most likely spend no less than ten years in prison for what he’s done, I’m wracked with nerves. Sleep has been evading me for the last several days. I don’t think I’ve been able to stay in bed for more than two hours at a time, but I’m not tired. Instead, I’m thrumming with pent up energy. My hands shake and tremble constantly, my heart constantly feels as if it’s about to burst from my chest at any moment, and I’ve not had the appetite to eat more than a piece of toast in the mornings. Sometimes not even that much. This glass of wine will be the most alcohol I’ve consumed in weeks as well. I’ve just barely reached the bottom and I’ve already begun to feel a delightfully numbing buzz coursing through me.

The sound of the glassdoor behind me sliding open causes me to jump, almost dropping my glass.

“Sorry, Sassenach. Tis’ only me,” Jamie says quietly, sliding the door shut. “I was worried about ye’. Canna sleep?”

I stayed the night at Jamie’s flat tonight. Since Faith wouldn’t be coming with me to the trial, she would be staying with her Aunt Geillis for the next few days. Geillis -bless her,- will be working from home so she can watch her. With Faith being gone, I would’ve been alone in the big house on Merchiston Park and I didn’t think I was quite ready for that yet. Jamie would be accompanying me to the courthouse anyway, so he mercifully let me sleep here. Or fail too, in my case.

“No,” I release a breath. “I stole some of your cabernet. Hope you don’t mind,” 

“Not at all. Help yerself,” Jamie waves a hand dismissively and sits down on the lounger across from me. He’s been heart-breakingly sensitive and careful around me lately. I can tell he’s trying his hardest to make everything as simple as possible for my sake. 

“Jamie,” I force myself to say before I lose the nerve. He raises his eyebrows in answer. I fidget with a tassel on the blanket on my lap. “Can you come sit with me, please?” his eyes widen a bit, but he quickly schools his features into a soft smile.

“Aye, of course.” he stands and moves to sit beside me. The instant he’s within my personal space, I crave his omnipresent warmth. Without giving too much thought, I wrap my arms around his middle and place my head against his chest. One of his hands finds its place on my knee, the other gently running through my hair. “Are ye’ sure yer alright? It’s okay if yer not,” he whispers after a few blissfully silent minutes have passed.

“I don’t know,” I respond truthfully. I had absolutely no idea. My thoughts have been a jumbled mess for several months now with no sign of clearing anytime soon. My relationship with Tom crashed and burned in such a spectacularly difficult way I had no way of predicting, throwing everything I knew into the wind and hell to it.

Was I alright? By all accounts, I should be. The case was almost guaranteed to go in my favor, after all. We had mountains of evidence, both eye-witness and physical, so in that regard, I had nothing to worry about. But that wasn’t the only issue I was struggling with.

“Talk to me, Claire. If ye’ can,” Jamie has always had an uncanny ability to recognize when I need silence or when I need release. He must be right this time. I haven’t spoken to him too much about what’s been going inside of my head recently. It’s so exhausting relaying the same painful information over and over, that by the time I reach out to him most nights, the last thing I want to discuss is Tom.

I only allow myself to take three deep breaths before answering him.

“I’m terrified,” I murmur into his shirt. He begins to scratch my head in the way I’ve always liked. We spent many nights in this exact same position while at University together. While it originally only happened after I’d had a particularly bad day, it soon became an almost nightly occurrence. It was a time for us to be there for each other without any obligation to speak or listen.

“Why?” he prods, gently.

“I don’t even know,” I confess, trying to pull myself as close to him as possible, my still splinted hand making it difficult. “I fear that… no matter which way the trial goes, I’ll be hurt in the end.”

“Even if he’s found guilty?” Jamie sounds as if he’s trying to hide his disgust at the idea of Tom walking away unscathed.

“You don’t understand,” I exhale. “He is… _was_ the love of my life. Regardless of what happens, he’ll always be the Father of my daughter. The fact that I could be the one potentially ruining his life is destroying me.” Jamie takes a steeling breath. 

“Claire, if it’s anyone’s fault for ruining his life it’s his. Ye’ ken that.” I pull away from him abruptly, my head spinning from either the wine or the emotion.

“But I _don't_ know that. If I had never said anything to you or never taught Faith how to use the bloody phone then he would still have his job and we wouldn’t be dealing with all of this mess right now.”

“Ye’ canna be saying you regret leaving him, certainly?” Jamie furrows his eyebrows, his  blue eyes boring deep into mine.

“Yes! N-no. I…” I stutter. “Christ, I don’t know.” I reach over to the table and pour myself another healthy glass of cabernet. Bringing it to my lips, I down half of it in one gulp. 

“Sassenach,” Jamie says, firmly. I flick my gaze towards him for a second, then back out onto the still bustling street. “Sassenach,” he repeats when I ignore him.

“Jamie, I don’t know. Okay? I don’t know how I feel. Everything is just shit right now and I don’t know how to fix it.” I finish the rest of the wine and fight against the urge to pour another glass. 

“Ye’ dinna always have to fix everything. I ken yer a doctor and it’s simply yer nature, but some things lie out of yer control.”

“But this was in my control,” I say. “All of this happening right now is because of me. If I had just dealt with him like a fucking adult instead of… tattling on him like a child we could’ve worked it out.”

“What if ye’ couldn’t?” I finally turn to face him. His glare isn’t one of malice. It’s one of pleading, begging me to understand him. I stay quiet so he continues. “What if when ye’ tried to ‘work things out’ he went into a fury and actually killed ye’? Hm? Or what if he went after wee Faith instead?”

“He would never have done that. Tom-” he cuts me off.

“Ye’ don’t ken that, though. I’m sure when ye’ first got together ye’ never dreamed he would lay his hands on ye’, but look what happened.” my chest constricts at the accuracy of his words and I have to clench my fists and bite my tongue to keep myself from arguing back. “Needless to mention that ye’ told me yerself he thought he killed ye’ on that terrible day. He clearly was capable of it if he himself thought he had done it.” 

I taste blood in my mouth. I’m not sure if it’s from the memory of what happened that truly dreadful day, or from how hard I’m clutching my jaw together. Jamie grabs my hands, holding the uninjured one firmly.

“I’m no’ saying that ye’ canna mourn what the two of you once had. I’m saying that ye’ canna let that evil man keep manipulating ye’ into feeling guilty for him. He’s done this to himself. None of this was ever yer fault. What happens at the trial wilna’ be yer fault either. Ye’ wouldna’ even think for an instant about blaming Faith for the pain she’s gone through, aye?”

“Of course not.” I rip my hands away from his, pain searing from the left one. “How dare you say such a thing?”

“That’s my point, Sassenach.” he’s calmed considerably, but his eyes still hold a fire in them I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. “Faith didna’ ask to go through everything she went through, in the same way, you didna’ either. The pair of ye’ were tortured by a heinous, miserable excuse for a man that preyed on the fact that he kent how to get his way.” he extends a tentative hand back to mine. I let him take it. 

“Jamie, I’m-”

“And before ye’ go apologizing to me again, I’ve told ye’ a million times that I’ll never be cross wi’ you for talking to me about this. Truly, I won’t... All I ask is that yer honest wi’ me when ye’ have these feelings. I want to be there for ye’.'' his frown transforms into his smile that I love so much. I try to return in, but can only manage a slight twitch of my lips.

“I know that,” I nod. “It’s just hard to believe that someone actually doesn’t mind my incessant rambling.”

“It’s no’ rambling. It’s you finally being able to speak freely, and I’m forever grateful that I get to be the one to hear it.” he carefully runs his hand down the side of my face. “Rest now, please. Ye’ look as if yer about to keel over.” he makes to stand up, but I stop him by pulling his large frame into a hug. 

“Would you mind terribly if we stayed out here?” I ask once I’ve moved away. “I was getting a bit claustrophobic inside.” he grins at my blunt honesty. At this point, I feel as if I could ask him to grab the moon from the sky down for me and he would do so without a single word. 

_Baby steps._ I tell myself. 

"Aye, anything for you,” he says, and I believe him. I give him one last hug before settling my head down into his lap. Jamie grabs the blanket that had slipped off me while we talked and tucks it up to my shoulders. His hand returns to my hair, the rhythm of his fingers lulling me into the sense of peace I’ve been relentlessly chasing. “Always, mo ghraidh.” I make a mental note to myself to ask him what that means. 

But that can wait until morning.

* * *

I wake the next morning feeling a bizarre paradox of restfulness and exhaustion. Last I had checked the time last night, it had been nearing three o’clock in the morning. I’m not sure how much longer Jamie and I had stayed awake, but I knew my alarm was set to go off at eight. I couldn’t have been asleep for more than four to five hours. Combined with the fact that I haven’t slept hardly at all, my eyes were struggling to peel open.

“Sassenach,” Jamie shakes my shoulder. “It’s time to wake up,”

“Good Lord, I’m freezing.” I try to burrow deeper into my pillow but am met with the solid muscle of Jamie’s thigh instead. I bolt up to a sitting position and try to hide the rapidly rising blush on my cheeks. Jamie only laughs.

“I gave ye’ everything I could to keep warm wi’out disturbing ye’.” it’s only then that I notice I’m now wearing the fleece jacket he had on when he joined me on the balcony. “Ye’ was shivering throughout the night, poor thing.”

“Jamie, you should’ve woken me!” I exclaim, removing the jacket as fast I can to wrap him up in it. 

“It’s really no’ a big deal,” he assures me, the glowing smile still lighting up his face. “I was more concerned wi’ your warm-blooded English arse freezing to death. No’ to mention, ye’ looked so peaceful I didna’ want to disturb ye’.” 

A horrifying realization crosses my mind.

“Were you awake all night? You must be exhausted!” with the loss of his jacket and blanket, I do realize that I am in fact bone-chillingly cold. I clamber over him to reach the door and enter the blessedly warm flat. “You shouldn’t have done that, Dr. Fraser. You know the effects of sleep deprivation on the brain.” Jamie follows me inside, still chuckling.

“I feel just fine, Sassenach. Watching ye’ at peace was rest enough.” I stare at him for a moment too long, then remember the reason for waking up in the first place. He must notice my sudden change of mood and is soon holding me against him.

“What time do we have to leave?” I ask, abstractly marveling at how his body has still retained enough heat to warm me.

“The trial is at noon, and the courthouse is no more than an hour away,” he replies. Jamie draws back, keeping his hands on the tops of my arms. “Truthfully, how do ye’ feel?” I lick my lips and sigh. 

_Honesty, Claire_.

“Scared… but better.” he appears pleased with my answer. 

“It’s perfectly normal for ye’ to be scared. Just remember, I’ll be right behind ye’ the entire time.”

“That’s why I feel better than last night.” I inch closer to him. “I know you’ll be there. You aren’t going to leave me.” I battle against adding _"Right?_ _"_ because I know he won’t. James Fraser is nothing if not a man of his word.

“If ye’ll have it, I’ll never leave ye’, Claire.” I don’t quite have a response, so I settle for a nod. He replies in kind, and we both go our separate ways to prepare for today.

I warred for hours in my head over what to wear for each day of the trial. I had grabbed random clothes in my frenzy to escape the deafening silence of my house before scrambling to Jamie’s, so I had a fairly limited selection. Deciding to do my hair and makeup first, I enter the bathroom.

I had instinctually taken my flat iron with me in my overnight bag but really considered it now. My Mother gave me her hair. Curly, and wild. While I could occasionally get away with putting into a tight bun when I was with Tom, if I ever wanted to go out with it down, it needed to be tamed in some way. That usually meant straightening it to near burning. My hands hover over the iron, unsure of what to do. 

When I look up into the bathroom mirror, I see a reflection of my Mother staring back at me. Obviously, as I’ve aged I’ve grown to look more and more like the woman I remember, but recently I’ve been seeing it more clearly. It’s because she never once had her hair not curled and puffed around her head. In fact, I can’t recall a single time I ever saw it straight or even wavy. I take the flat iron into my hand and dump it unceremoniously into the bin next to the sink. Who the hell says I can’t let my natural hair exist for once?

Makeup is next. Unfortunately, I can’t take as liberal an approach as with my hair. The lack of sleep and proper diet is evident in the dark circles in a ring around my eyes. It makes me look far less liberated than I feel at the moment, so I allow myself to apply as much as I pleased.

When I’ve at last reached a result I’m content with, I move on to clothes. Thankfully, I had been at least somewhat rational in my selections. There are a couple of dresses, as well as suits and blouses. After scanning the meager pile for several minutes, I decide on a smart-looking, grey skirt suit. The tags are still attached to both the blazer and the skirt. I assume that Tom had taken some issue or another with the set, so it was left to live in my closet until I got around to returning it.

Pairing it with a white blouse and nude heels, I am at last physically ready to head into an unknown fate. Even if my mental state was an abhorrent wreck, I at least look the part of a newly free woman, unbound from the shackles of Tom Christie.

With one last glance in the mirror and some final touches on my makeup, I exit the room and wait in the kitchen for Jamie. I briefly consider pouring a finger or two of one of his many whiskey’s to help calm my growing nerves but settle not to. I want to be fully aware of everything that happens today. Whether or not I’ll regret that decision be damned.

Jamie emerges from his room while I’m still staring at the bottle of Eagle Rare in his cabinet.

“Fancy a dram?” he asks, behind me. 

"I shouldn’t,” I reply, resolutely, turning to face him. He’s in a charcoal-colored suit with a dark tie, and what looks to be his nice pair of Ted Baker shoes as well. I tear my eyes away from him and busy myself with ensuring I have everything I need inside of my purse. “Are you ready?”

“Aye,” he answers, putting his wallet and phone into his pocket. “You?”

“As I’ll ever be, I suppose.” I suddenly regret every choice I’ve made while getting ready today. I should’ve put more effort into my hair, applied more makeup, and worn something that I know nobody has an issue with. I tug nervously at the hem of my blazer, but before I’m able to ask Jamie if I look okay, he speaks first.

“I like yer hair like that, Sassenach.” he says, absently. My hand flies to the curly mass on my head.

“Are you sure?” I ask, timidly. “It doesn't look too… I don’t know… too…-”

“It looks beautiful,” he says, with a look that immediately soothes my worries. I remove my hand and glance at it through the reflection of the stainless steel fridge. Perhaps it’s just because Jamie said so, but it does look rather pretty.

“Okay,” I stand up straight and place my purse over my shoulder. “I’m ready.”

* * *

“Opening statements will be first. I’ll be going, then it will be Mr. Christie’s attorney. It’s a man named Frank Randall.” says Letitia while we walk through the vast hallways to the courtroom. “I dinna ken him personally, but he’s wicked in court. No doubt he’ll pull out all the stops to get his sentence lessened.” Letitia has been relentlessly telling me that he will undoubtedly face some sort of punishment. The severity of said punishment is what is up in the air.

“Do you have any idea how long this will go on for?” I ask, tightening my grip on the strap of my purse to stop my hands from shaking. In less than ten minutes I will be seeing Tom for the first time in almost a month. Will he be remorseful?

“No idea,” she replies with a shake of her head, the red hair tied up into a bun remaining completely still. “It’s a fairly straight-forward case but who knows what Randall and Christie are going to try.” I nod and take a deep breath, thankfully feeling not nearly as anxious as I assumed I would. Jamie’s physical presence has helped me immensely. 

He’s been quiet and stoic since we arrived, only speaking when directly spoken to. I can tell he’s feeling similarly to me, but with far more rage. His hands alternate between clenching into fists to tapping his fingers on his legs. His eyes have a permanent glare shining through them.

“What are you thinking?” I ask when Letitia has begun to walk slightly ahead of us. I can see him unfurl his fingers and stretch them down by his side.

“I’m trying to convince myself to no’ kill the man when we see him,” he says. Surprising him and myself, I snort a laugh.

“I don’t think anyone would blame you, but it would make this case a touch more complicated.” his tense features relax a bit, and he gives me a small smile.

“Aye, that’s fair.” he chuckles, almost mirthlessly. “How about you?”

“I’m wondering what he’s going to do when he sees me. Will he look sorry? Or will he have that blank face of his? I have no idea.” I shrug. Jamie doesn’t reply and he doesn’t need to either. 

We, at last, reach the door to the courtroom we’ll be in for hours over the next few days at least. My feet become rooted in their spot. The anxiety that was missing before now consumes me entirely.

“Is he in there already?” I ask, cursing the shake in my voice.

“Most like,” Letitia answers, placing a gentle hand on my arm. “Claire, I ken yer  frightened, but there’s absolutely nothing he can do to ye’ now. I promise.” 

My knees feel as if they’re about to buckle underneath me at any moment. Just a mahogany door separates me from him. With the exception of when I’m giving my testimony, I’ll be sitting in the gallery behind him, unable to see his face. For some reason or another, I will not be with my legal team at the council table, and I’m grateful. I couldn't stand to be less than twenty feet away from him for any given period of time.

I try to focus myself back to earth but my mind keeps flying elsewhere. I don’t even feel as if I inhabit my body. Desperately wishing to be anywhere else but here, I close my eyes. Maybe if I think hard enough I’ll be transported to another time in my life.

“Sassenach?” Jamie asks, grabbing my wrist. “Are ye’ alright, lass?”

“I’m sorry, what?” I ask, rapidly blinking my eyes to unblur them.

“Security asked if yer ready to go in?” Jamie releases his hold and nods toward the uniformed guard standing silently by the door.

“Oh,” I quickly wipe away tears that had just started to fall and straighten my shoulders. “I guess so.” the man says something into a phone in his hand and opens the door. Letitia enters first, walking straight to the rest of my team up at the front. At the sound of her heels on the linoleum floor, Tom turns his head, his eyes narrowing directly at me. I don’t know what I had been expecting. Sorrow, maybe? Perhaps some look of guilt or regret?

But that’s nothing like what I receive at this moment.

He doesn’t even register Jamie’s presence at my side. He stares straight into me, never blinking. To my horror, he rakes his eyes up and down my body and smirks, lifting his gaze back to mine. I can’t seem to tear myself away from him, even though I currently feel as though I’m going to throw up at any minute. He looks at Jamie for a second, then back to me, his eyebrows raised in a mocking question. 

Jamie puts a hand on my arm and steers me into my seat. Tom never once looks away. The longer he stares, it seems the more things he notices. The bulky cast my hand is in, the still not completely faded bruises on my neck and face, my near twenty pounds weight-loss since he last saw me. And he looks… pleased. In fact, he almost appears proud of himself. I don’t know what my face looks like right now, but given the rapid rise and fall of my chest and endlessly shaking hands and legs I’m sure I’m giving him exactly what he wants. But I can’t stop.

His attorney now turns to look at me as well. Frank Randall has been Tom’s attorney for the last several years. They had met when we still lived in England, not long before I got pregnant with Faith. I was never particularly close to him but had enjoyed his presence well enough when he would come over for a drink or party. However, the man I see now is not at all the one I once knew.

He doesn’t wear the same eerily gratified expression as Tom. He instead is staring at me with pure disgust. I can’t decide if I want to know what Tom has told him about me or not. Jamie notices the look Frank is giving to me, so he sits up as straight as he can and moves infinitesimally closer. The feeling of his leg barely brushing against mine is enough to snap me back to reality. 

I finally remove my eyes from both Tom and Frank, turning to Jamie instead. I can feel my jaw trembling with the urge to continue crying but I refuse. I will not give either of those men the satisfaction of seeing my break down. Jamie subtly removes his left hand from his leg and grabs my right one. He squeezes it hard, almost transferring some of his strength over to me.

“I can’t do this, Jamie.” I whisper, low enough so he is the only one to hear me.

“Ye’ can and ye’ will,” he says back, running his thumb across the back of my hand. 

“Dear God, please help me.” I exhale, fixing my gaze to a large painting across the back wall of the courtroom. Minutes later, we all rise at the entrance of the Justice. 

The preliminary hearings begin, and for the entirety of the day, Jamie’s hand remains clasped in mine.

  
  



	2. Painting Over

Today is the day. The day that I have to stand before Tom and answer to his solicitor, Frank Randall. I was only allowed in the courtroom during the preliminary stages and was otherwise sequestered in a private room a few hallways down. 

Jamie stayed, however, as he was unable to testify against Tom. He came with me as a personal supporter and therefore lost the ability to speak as well. Jamie has been telling me that it appears the defense Frank and Tom are taking is that I’m a delusional, over-dramatic woman who has become lost in the stress of both motherhood and working as a doctor full-time. Letitia also expects they’re going to try and make me seem unsure of what truly happened. Because of this, I’ve been religiously going over my statement at nearly any free moment I have. It’s not that I suddenly doubt the events that previously transpired, but I want to be certain that I get every little thing correct.

I go back to the courthouse in just three hours. It should hopefully be the last day of the trial. Letitia believes it will be. In just a few hours I could find out if Tom will walk away unpunished or not. I’m as ready as I can be for that.

“Darling,” I cut off my own train of thought by refocusing my attention on the far too little amount of time I have with Faith before she returns to Geillis’. “Would you like to take a week off of school?” her head snaps up and eyes widen.

“A whole week?” she exclaims, so appalled that I laugh. Among the million other things she has inherited from me, her love and devotion to education stand out at the forefront.

“If you don’t mind of course.” I amend. “I just have missed you recently and would like to spend some time together.” while that of course is true, I also believe I will need serious distraction no matter how the trial turns out.

“I’ve missed you too,” she nods. “Auntie Geillis doesn’t know how to play Barbie like you do.” apparently an egregious fault in her eyes, Faith readily accepts my offer to take time off.

“Well, I promise we can play Barbie as much as you would like.” I ruffle her curls and recline back onto Jamies’ couch. I wish there were more ways to express my gratitude to him, besides just saying ‘thank you.’ He knows how difficult it can be for me to accept help of any kind, so hopefully, that in itself is enough.

“Are we done talking to people?” Faith asks suddenly, lifting her head from its spot on my legs. I furrow my eyebrows.

“What people?” 

“The people asking about Daddy. I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.” her fingers fiddle with the drawstring on my jumper. I sigh and adjust her body so that she is situated on my lap.

“I believe you should be done, sweetheart. This should all hopefully be done by today.” I answer. Over the last several days, with the help of Lizzie and Jamie, Faith has been told the bare minimum of what’s going on. She now knows she likely will never see her Father again, but how she truly feels about that still remains a mystery. 

The psychologist we took her to see a few days ago informed me that she’s been referring to him primarily in past-tense, but would still occasionally go off onto a tangent of a happy memory with him. It can be difficult to alter the view of someone to a child when for the most part they only have pleasant memories. Despite the fact that Tom was never really a necessarily good Father, Faith hardly ever saw that side of him until the past few months.

I’m hoping and praying that in the coming weeks or months he will begin to only feel like a memory to her. It’s impossible to tell if he will leave any lasting psychological effects on her given her age, but God willing she will heal from this.

I, on the other hand, am feeling significantly less optimistic about my prospects. If anything, the trial has done nothing but exacerbate my perpetual anxiety. The tiniest of noises or softest of touches throw me into a tailspin. Stuck in a seemingly never-ending whirlpool of fear and terror. Faith has been the only person I’ve willingly let touch me for almost a week now. Even Jamie has been kept at a distance after the brief feeling of his hand on my back launched me into a practically half-hour panic attack two days ago.

I’ve been urged to see a psychologist as well by my colleagues and attorney, but would rather jump off a bridge then continue the arduous task of relieving my life with Tom over and over again. I desperately wish that the decision of this trial would provide me with some much-needed clarity, but it continues to befog me.

The sound of the front door opening causes me to flinch violently, enough so that even Faith sits up and whips around to face the door. The sigh of Jamie entering with an armful of grocery bags soothes me slightly. Faith jumps off my lap and runs towards Jamie. He takes a bag, appearing to only be filled with bread, and hands it to her to help carry it into the kitchen. I can hear them chatter together while he unloads the groceries

“I’m making ye’ something for breakfast, Sassenach. Ye’ better eat all of it.” he says, popping his head around the doorway from the kitchen. “D’ye want white or wheat?”

“I’m not too hungry right now, Jamie. Thank you though,” I wrap the blanket from the armrest of the couch around my chilled body. Jamie, a walking furnace, has always kept his apartments at an unreasonably cold temperature, but it’s been bothering me more than usual lately.

“We’re no’ doing that today,” he says, stepping fully around the wall to cross his arms at me. “White or wheat?”

“Jamie, I said I’m-”

“We’ll do white. Ye’ need the calories.” he cuts me off and returns to the kitchen without another word. My stomach churns at the idea of food. So much so I feel as if I’m about to be sick. I close my eyes and plop myself down fully onto the couch. I take multiple deep breaths to try and quell the rumbling inside of my stomach that is slowly making its way to my chest. Curling onto my side, I tuck the blanket under my chin and urge myself to think about anything other than food right now.

The sound of waves crashing on the shore. The feeling of a cool wind whipping through my hair. My Mother wrapping her arms around me every night before bed.

I continue this list for countless more minutes until I’m jolted back to reality by Faith gently tapping on my cheek.

“Mr. Jamie has breakfast ready,” she says, continuing to poke at my face.

“Tell him I’ll get something later, darling.” I close my eyes again and nuzzle my face deeper into the pillow. I hear her little footsteps exit the room, followed moments later but much heavier ones entering.

“Claire, please get up and eat,” Jamie says. I crack one eye open to find him squatting in front of me, his mouth frowning in concern.

“I’m really tired, Jamie. Can’t I just sleep until we have to leave?” I know my attempts are futile, but I candidly believe I’m unable to stand at this moment.

“Aye, lass, yer tired because ye’ havena’ had anything proper to eat since Sunday. I ken I canna force ye’ into the kitchen, but I can sit here wi’ the plate and refuse to quit bothering ye’ until ye’ve had a bite.” I resist the temptation to roll my eyes.  _ Frasers _ .

“Genuinely, I feel like I will throw up if you so much as bring food into the same room as me,” I say, bluntly. “I promise I’ll eat something as soon as we get back.” I attempt my best puppy-eyes but they fall onto the blind worry of Jamie. He rises silently, and for an instant, I think I’ve won the battle, but quickly realize I in fact failed when he re-enters with a plate full of toast, jam, and eggs, Faith trailing close behind with her own plate, already half empty.

The smell of the food wafts unpleasantly into my nose, and I discover that my earlier fears were not misplaced after all. My stomach roils forcibly and I feel bile rise in my throat. I leap off the couch to run to the nearest bathroom but almost immediately become so light-headed I collapse. Thankfully, Jamie seemed to anticipate this and caught me before I hit the ground. With one arm encircling my waist and the other still holding the plate of food, he carefully lowers me onto the ground. My vision swirls before me, and I have to rest my head on the coffee table to get it to stop.

“I fucking told you,” I mutter, trying to force the feelings of illness away.

“Tell me everything you’ve eaten in the last three days,” Jamie says, firmly. I turn my head to glare at him and stop cold. Faith is standing behind his back, eyes brimming with fresh tears.  _ Jesus Christ, I’m a terrible mother _ . I think to myself. I’ve scared her almost to the point of crying with my dramatics. I’m supposed to be the one protecting her from harm and danger, and instead, here I am frightening her even more. I’m failing at the one thing I need to get right.

Jamie must see the abject shame written clearly across my face. He turns around to place a careful hand on the side of Faiths’ head.

“Yer Mam is alright, a leannan. How about ye’ go play wi’ Adso in the guest room?” he says, tenderly. She doesn’t give another glance to me before turning on her heel and walking straight into the spare bedroom. Jamie is doing a better job of raising my child than I am. This time it’s a sob that makes its way up my throat.

“I’m Goddamned failure.” I choke. “My own fucking daughter can’t stand the sight of me.” through my eyes, still trained on the floor, I can see Jamie shift and sit down. 

“That’s no’ true and ye’ ken that,” he says. “Dinna be ridiculous, Claire.”

“I’m not being ridiculous.” I seethe, slowly lifting myself up to scowl at him. “You saw what she looked like. She was horrified,”

“Aye, she was,” he states, plainly, voice eerily still. “And so am I to be quite honest.” I glower at him as best I can, but I’m still struggling to merge the two images of him back into one. I’m sure I must be swaying like a leaf.

“And what the bloody hell do you mean by that?” I spit. 

“Claire, yer withering away by the day! Can ye’ really no’ see how… sick ye’ look?” I can tell he’s trying to keep his anger in check for me, but for some unknown reason, it only frustrates me futher.

“I wonder why that is!” I exclaim, slamming my fist onto the coffee table, ignoring the pain that shoots up my arm from my still healing hand. “Are you seriously telling me that I should just spring back to life after my husband tries to fucking kill me?! I’m supposed to just ignore that and move on about my day? Is that what you’re saying?” his jaw tightens and he grapples to not take the bait.

“Of course that’s no’ what I’m saying. Yer being difficult on purpose,”

“Difficult!” I laugh, humorlessly. “Difficult, he says! Well, Dr. Fraser, please enlighten me as to how I’m supposed to act in this situation. What did you do after the one who swore to love and protect you for life one day decided you were nothing more than a punching bag, hm? Did you simply say ‘Oh well!’ and move on? How did that work out for you?” I intrinsically know that my anger towards him is completely unjustified and misplaced, but that isn’t stopping me from seeing red. He has no place to be telling me how to feel.

“I dinna ken why yer looking for a fight, Claire, but I’m no’ going to sit here and entertain ye’. Eat yer damn breakfast.” he starts to stand up, yet is stopped by my huff and rolling eyes. He narrows his gaze at me. “What?” he bites.

“I don’t know why you’re still trying when you know it’s worthless.” I shake my head. His expression softens infinitesimally, and he sits back down. 

“What’s worthless?” he asks, significantly quieter than before. I tear my eyes from him and focus them on the carpet. I’m exhausted. The vicious emotional ups and downs that come on without warning and leave me feeling empty and desolate are ripping me apart at the seams. I can’t remember my original reason for being angry anymore.  _ How did this happen?  _ I don’t even recognize myself. I’ve never been so quick to rage and fall apart like this before. I damn the tears continuing to pool in my eyes.

“Me,” I mumble. “I’ve done nothing but repay your kindness with unnecessary fights and fury. I don’t at all deserve what you’ve done for me. It’s absolutely worthless for you to keep trying, but you do and it enrages me.”

“Why?” he pushes, inching closer to me. I don’t move back, despite every instinct telling me to.

“Because… because I know that soon enough you’ll grow tired of this mess and leave me. I know it.”

“You dinna ken that-,” he starts.

“But I do!” I interrupt him. “Because that’s what everyone does.” I’ve begun to sob at this point. I’ve lost complete control of my emotions. They shoot in and out of me without any care or concern. “Everyone in my life has left me. Don’t you understand that? My parents, my uncle, my husband, my friends, and now Faith will follow eventually. They’ve all left.” my head pounds viciously. I pay no mind to it. It’s the least of my concerns just now. 

Jamie is silent with the exception of his breathing, coming in and out of his nose. I’ve finally done it, haven’t I? Pushed away from the one last person who had any care for me on this earth? He reaches a wary hand towards me, placing it carefully on my knee. I flinch, but don’t move from him.

“And you think I will too?” he whispers. 

“No.” I shake my head. “I know you will. You don’t want to be tied to his utter trainwreck forever.” Jamie exhales sharply and grabs my hands away from my face. I must look miserable right now. Tears stream down my face and my already dark-circled eyes feel swollen. Jamie doesn’t seem appalled though. Instead, he gifts me with a small, crooked smile.

“I do, Sassenach.” he says, squeezing my knee lightly. I peer at him, attempting to judge his honesty.

“You do, what?” I question. He takes my stillness as an invitation to move even closer, his leg now brushing against mine. 

“I do want to be tied to ye’ forever.” he breaths. “Do ye’ honestly no’ ken that?” this time, his words don’t hold the malice from before. His question is genuine.

“You’re lying to me,” I attempt to pull my hand away. As always, he senses my movements before I even make them. He tightens his grip.

“I’m no’ lying. I love ye’, Claire.” my breath hitches in my throat and I fall mute. His eyes hold so much truth and veracity I can’t look away. He continues to stare not only at me but into me.

“No, you don’t,” I gasp. He chuckles.

“Yer tryna’ tell me how I feel?” his hand moves to caress the side of my face, his thumb grazing my cheek. “I’m no’ saying this to… trick ye’ in any way. I’ve loved ye’ since the moment I laid my eyes on ye’.” Jamie has said he loves me before. Me and Faith both. However, I always assumed he meant as a friend. He’s been the closest person in my life and I thought that was all he could possibly mean. Does he really…?

“W-w-why?” I stutter, unable to comprehend his words in their entirety. 

“I dinna have the time to tell ye’ all the why’s, Sassenach. There’s no’ enough time in the world for that.”

“But… but… I’ve been so m-monstrous towards you.” my heart beats uncontrollably. Since the downfall of my marriage, I’ve pictured a life with Jamie in the abstract countless times. Whenever I would see him play with Faith, toss me a blanket from across the couch, drive me to appointments and meetings. I never once thought these visions would come to fruition.

“I dinna see it that way,” he asserts. “Though if you do, I still have an explanation. I want ye’ to get better for  _ you _ . The woman I met and fell in love with has been held hostage by the evil hands of a man that didna’ even deserve ye’ in the first place. No matter what has happened, yer still you. I want to see that again. No’ for my sake, but for yers.” his hand is so solid and warm against my skin it’s almost shocking.

“That doesn’t mean you love me,” I counter. His smile cracks into a laugh, his face lighting up so much my lips twitch into a tiny smile of their own.

“Leave it to Claire Beauchamp to still be pig-headed during a declaration of love.” I can feel my smile widen and for the first time in days I start to feel lighter. I valiantly ignore the overwhelming part of me saying that this will all come crashing down around my ears. I need to let myself believe in others for once. Taking a few breaths, I shakily grab his hand, threading my fingers through his.

“Jamie,-”

“Ye’ dinna have to say anything if ye’ can’t. I just need ye’ to know. That’s why I’m still here, and always will be.” he encompasses my small hand in his two large ones. I bite my lip and sit up straighter.

“Thank you for understanding,” I say, pouring as much sincerity into my words as possible. “It may take some time for me to believe you… not because I don’t- um… I-I do believe-” Jamie raises a single eyebrow to cease my rambling. He understands. “Christ, I don’t know what to say.”

“Then dinna say anything. It’s alright, truly.”

“I do want you to know that I’m going to try my hardest to make it work- to make  _ this  _ work. It just may take some time for me to come around. But please know that I do… I…”

“Aye, I ken,” he stops me. His hand then squeezes mine three times in quick succession. Three times.  _ I love you _ . 

I’m still for a moment, thoughts warring with themselves. Thinking back to all the times I’ve thought of us together, sought him out in my darkest times, prayed he would be there for me when I needed him, I make up my mind. I squeeze back three times.  _ I love you too.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this was not at all how I intended this chapter to go, but hey! There it is.  
> I fully meant for all of this to happen much later, but I really couldn't help myself and figured that you all wouldn't mind too terribly much.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> P.S. be on the lookout for a new story coming soon! "Missing By Just a Moment" will hopefully be published in the coming days!! <3


	3. Finishing Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of domestic abuse and violence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! Sorry, it's been a while since the last update, but this chapter stumped me for some reason. I'm still not 100% pleased with the final product but decided that it wasn't likely to get any better.
> 
> Also, let's ignore the fact that I'm studying biology so I have no idea how the law works and kinda just made it up as I went along hee hee.
> 
> Enjoy!

I’m sure I’ve just about worn a path in my waiting room as I continue to pace back and forth. In just mere minutes I will be taking the stand to officially testify against Tom. My hands feel raw with how much I’ve wrung them together since arriving at the courthouse. I force myself to sit down in one of the leather rolling-chairs situated at the table in the room, but within seconds I already feel antsy and begin to pace again. I glance at the ticking clock on the wall and find that only two minutes have passed since the last time I checked.

Jamie is inside the courtroom right now. He offered to stay with me while I waited, but I felt as if I needed to be alone before facing Tom. I’m deeply regretting that decision now while I valiantly try to keep my building panic attack at bay. 

Just the thought of Jamie is enough to soothe my nerves somewhat. We stayed together on the floor for almost half an hour this morning until we were interrupted by Faith emerging from the guest room to make sure everything was okay. The sight of my still fear-stricken child caused me to burst into another bout of tears, but Jamie was there for us the entire time. His hand stayed firmly grasped in mine, occasionally offering another three squeezes of reassurance.

The benefit of being alone at this time is that I am able to truly process the events from earlier without his presence. His declaration has ignited a flurry of indistinguishable feelings to wreak havoc inside my mind. On the one hand, it provides comfort that I’ve been craving for the past several years. However, it also sends waves of pure terror coursing through me. Am I ready to even explore the possibility of a relationship right now? While I’ve never thought for a single moment that Jamie would dream of inflicting pain onto either Faith or me, I still feel a sort of omnipresent hesitance around any man.

I’ve been trying in vain to sort these feelings out since sequestering myself inside this room but have had no luck. I know that if I were to approach Jamie with these thoughts, he would tell me that he doesn’t mind how long it takes for me to decide how I feel. His otherworldly kindness and care for me would prevent him from ever holding it against me, which makes this all the harder. Jamie could-

“Mrs. Beachamp-Christie?” a sudden voice calls behind me. I jump and whirl around to find one of the security officers standing in the doorway. “It’s time for you to come in,” he says. I nod distantly and take a deep breath before following him out of the room on shaky legs. 

The sides of my vision start to grow blurry and the nausea is almost unbearable. I have been readying myself for this moment for weeks, but everything I have prepared seems to fly farther and farther away with every step I take. The officer stops outside of the mahogany door and gives me one more confirming look.

“Ready?” he asks. Incapable of words, I nod again and straighten my blazer with trembling hands. He opens the door to the courtroom and I only allow myself three seconds to stand still before entering. I immediately scan the room, not sure who I’m trying to find first. My eyes land on Tom and he stares back with the same expression that he’s used on me for years. Dark eyes slightly squinted, brows furrowed just a bit, and lips curled into a scowl. It’s a look of pure contempt. My heart skips violently and my mouth goes bone-dry.

I’m escorted to the stand and need to grab onto the officer's arm to keep myself from tripping on the steps. I swear I can hear Tom snicker and say something under his breath to Frank. Shifting my eyes away from him, I lock my stare onto Jamie. He’s wearing a small, encouraging smile and dips his head when he sees me. My breath exits raggedly through my nose as I try to ground myself.

“Dr. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp-Christie, do you swear by the Almighty God, to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” Judge Hiram Crombie declares.

“I do,” my voice shakes. 

“Alright then. Let’s begin,” he says. I try to sit as gently as possible, but given the physical state of my body, I feel like I crash down. “Mr. Randall, you may take the floor.” Frank Randall gives his thanks to the Judge, then rises and makes his way to the front of the stand.

“Mrs. Beauchamp-Christie… oh pardon me.  _ Dr.  _ Beauchamp-Christie,” Frank sneers. “You stated in your testimony that this  _ abuse  _ began in the months prior to your engagement to Tom Christie. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” I reply, as coldly as I can manage. Frank stands directly in front of me, his hands clasped behind his back. 

“Exactly how long before?”

“I can’t say with exact certainty as it was several years ago, but I would estimate it began roughly four months after we began our dating.” I curse the tremor in my voice and summon all the strength inside me to steady myself. 

“And how precisely did it begin?” he asks. My mind reels back to the fuzzy memories of our early relationship. 

“He was… controlling at first. Telling me what I could and couldn’t wear or do. He would insult my appearance and choices constantly and made me believe that I would be nothing without him.”

“Ah, he would insult you,” he says with mock sympathy. “Sounds very difficult. Tell me, was this the extent of his behavior?” my jaw tightens and I grip my hands firmly in my lap.

“No,” I grit through my teeth.

“Then please enlighten me,” out of the corner of my eye I can see Jamie stiffen. His expression has hardened into a ferocious glare at Frank. He’s holding just as much rage as I am at this moment.

“About a month after that started, he began to get physically violent. Shoving and hitting me repeatedly. By the time we were engaged, I had gone to the hospital four times because of injuries he’d caused.” I struggle to remain still. My body and mind are telling me to up and run away from this courtroom and never look back. 

“Did you ever alert any friends or family to what was happening?” I pause for a moment, collecting myself. While the memories of that time are hazy, the feelings are crystal clear. The horror, distress, anxiety, dread. Everything. I can recollect several times I either almost told someone or made serious attempts to leave him. Every time I failed.

“No, I-I... I didn’t.” I eventually say. Frank huffs with a smirk.

“So, just to be clear, Dr. Christie was causing you both physical and emotional harm, yet you stayed with him? Why on earth would a woman stay in a relationship with a man who was supposedly maltreating her?” he starts to walk up and down the space in front of the gallery, looking at everyone around him. “It just doesn’t quite make sense to me.”

“Mr. Randall, I can assure you and the Jury both that I wanted to leave him,” I feel fury bubbling inside of me.  _ So this is the angle they’re taking _ .

“But you didn’t.” he shrugs and returns his eyes to me, brows raised in question. “Why is that,  _ Doctor _ ?”

“I was terrified of him!” I unexpectedly shout, surprising even myself. “Not only did he have the power to ruin my career, but he also had the power to bloody kill me!” Frank puts his hands up in faux surrender. 

“Now now, Claire, I’m not trying to upset you. I just want us all to understand what you were going through at the time,” he says. “So inform us as to why you didn’t tell anybody about his alleged behavior.”

“Alleged?” I gape.

“Yes ma’am… alleged.” Frank quirks one side of his mouth up. “Innocent until proven guilty, no?”

“Mr. Randall,” Judge Crombie interjects. “I must ask ye’ to refrain from speakin’ to Dr. Beauchamp-Christie in that manner.”

“My apologies, Your Honor.” Frank gives a subtle bow to him. “To you as well,” he says, turning back to me. I ignore his words, electing to stare directly at him, unmoving with the exception of the rapid rise and fall of my chest. “Answer the question please,” I straighten my spine and set my jaw.

“I didn’t tell anybody because I was afraid of him finding out that I had,” I answer. 

“What do you surmise he would have done?” Frank resumes his position in front of me. Letitia had warned me about this. Apparently, it is commonplace for defense attorneys to try and discreetly intimidate those they’re questioning by assuming an air of authority. With this in mind, I continue my very best attempts at focusing only on his words.

“I know what he would do. He would intentionally inflict severe harm.”

“And just how do you know that?” I flick my eyes to Toms’ sitting form. His face has now gone blank as he listened to me speak. I know this expression well. He gives this look when he’s either deep in thought, or trying to school his features. What I don’t know, however, is what his reason is now.

"He did so countless times," Tom tilts his head, feigning confusion.

"Can you offer some more detail?"

"Whenever I upset him or made him angry he would inflict whatever sort of pain he felt appropriate for the occasion," I say. "More often than not he would hit me. Other times he would push, kick, or strangle me. Sometimes he'd pull my hair or throw things. Whatever he could do to hurt me he would,"  


"This was a common occurrence?" Frank asks. I nod and push my feet into the ground to stop my legs from quaking. "So what caused the events leading up to the week of the 19th of December?"

“He found out I was still in communication with specific people and forced me to take leave from work so he could ‘make me regret everything I've ever done.'" I pause. "...That was the worst punishment he had ever imposed."

“Can you please elaborate? Which people in particular?” Frank asks. I lick my lips and find Jamie in the crowd. I never told him that he was in fact the reason for my imprisonment. The guilt I knew he would feel stopped me from ever divulging that secret. Jamies’ head cocks to the side and his eyes narrow faintly. I clear my throat and look anywhere but at him.

“It w-was… um…” I stutter, suddenly feeling very lightheaded. 

“Answer the question.” Frank insists.

“It was an old friend of m-mine that Tom never g-got along with.” I stumble out. Frank stays silent, brows raised in waiting. 

“A name, if you please,” he says when I don't continue.

“Um… J-James Fraser.” I say, quickly. I can hear Jamies' sharp intake of breath but refuse to look at him. 

“Could you provide some insight into that specific altercation?” Frank briefly consults some notes on his table before returning to his back and forth pacing. 

_ Jesus Christ, I want this to end.  _ I think to myself. I’ve had enough talking about that week for several lifetimes over. The trauma I’ve endured since then has plagued me every moment of every day since I awoke at the hospital. The panic I felt earlier makes its awaited reappearance and it takes every ounce of self-control to not spiral down into it. I make the decision to dissociate myself from my being right now. I enter a space I’ve become very familiar with, a space where I can almost feel as if I’m not inhabiting my own body.

“It started when Tom arrived home early from a business trip,” I begin. I relay the story in as much detail as I vividly remember, which unfortunately happens to be a majority of it. Everything before me blurs together. I can’t see Frank, or Tom, or Jamie, or the Jury. Just bleary clusters of light and movement. My lips form words on their own accord, relaying information in a detached, abstract way. I can only assume that I’m saying everything I need to say. I don’t even remember the words mere seconds after they escape my lips. I regale what I hope is every horrifying detail of that time with my husband.

I’m only brought back to the present after I inadvertently choke on a sob making its way up my throat. I wasn’t aware I had started to cry. I take this moment to examine my surroundings. Frank is now standing stock-still in the middle of the floor. Tom is staring at me like he wishes I would drop dead this very instant. Jamie wears an inscrutable mask that I again know the meaning of, he doesn’t want anyone to discern what is going through his head right now. The Jury appears to be sympathetic, but a fair few have their heads buried in their papers, pencils scribbling madly.

The silence around me is deafening and I desperately want nothing more than to curl up into myself and never face the world again. I can hardly feel my fingers and toes and am having immense trouble taking in the air. My heart flutters in my chest, adding to my feeling of heightening unease.

_ I’m having a panic attack _ .

“… -okay?” I hear, but I can’t figure out who said it. My vision swims and my head feels as if it’s caught amid a brutal tornado. I attempt to recall any of the coping skills I’ve acquired throughout my life, but I come up empty. The voices around me all merge together into one continuous buzz that permeates deep into my bones, making me feel like I’m shuddering from the inside out. I raise my hand into my line of sight and find that I am indeed trembling viciously.

“I’m sorry,” I somehow choke out. “A moment,” I drop my chin to my chest and breathe.  _ Breath _ .  _ Breath _ .  _ Breath _ . More voices pop in and out around me. I can’t discern whether they’re talking to me or about me. I can’t bring myself to care in the slightest. 

“Claire?” someone says, sounding close to my ear. All I can do is shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut tighter. A heavy hand drops onto my shoulder and I instantly jump to the side to get rid of it. It reappears seconds later and I fear I may collapse under the weight of it. My heart rate rapidly increases and I distantly think I am at a legitimate risk of fainting. The hand promptly disappears and a deep, firm sounding burr indistinctly registers beside me. 

I try to grasp onto any thought that is swiftly running through my brain. Brief flashes of Faith, my parents and uncle, childhood memories, Tom. Images of his face pressed close to mine, both in love and in anger. His hand cracking against my face and then holding it tenderly as if I was a precious gem. Him throwing a vase from the mantle during an argument and then a pair of fuzzy socks after I told him my feet were cold. 

The paradox of memories coursing through me is enough to make my head spin on its own, but in addition to the already present panic is producing a savage, unquenchable wildfire throughout me.

Without warning, something warm and wet presses against my pantyhose-covered thigh. My eyes fly open to find a fluffy mass of red fur sitting dutifully by my side. Big brown eyes look up at me as the dog drops its head onto my lap. The weight is an oddly comforting antithesis to the hand on me seconds ago. I plunge a still shaking hand into the downy soft fur and use it as an anchor to steady myself.

The buzzing in my ears gradually fades away and my eyesight clears. I’m reminded of the time Jamie shoved ice cubes into my palm during the panic attack I had when visiting my house for the first time since Faith had called him to my rescue. My second thought is when the hell a dog appeared in the courtroom. Not that I’m ungrateful for my furry savior. The currant colored dog continues to press its body into my legs, doing wonders to bring me down from my soaring high. 

I, at last, look up from them to see a soft-looking woman peering at me with the same gentle expression of the dog. She smiles softly at my likely bewildered expression.

“Therapy dog,” she says, ruffling the red fur on its back. “Darcy here specializes in anxiety and panic disorders.” Darcy promptly licks my hand, eliciting a small smile from me. 

“Thank you,” I say in a low whisper.

“Are ye' alright now, hen?” the woman asks. I spare a glance around the courtroom to discover that a bulk of the people inside are now talking amongst themselves, with the exception of Jamie. He’s standing silently at the gate that separates the gallery from the pen, watching me with an intent stare. I hopelessly yearn for his nearness. Not necessarily for his touch or feel, but just the simplicity of his close presence. His hands are so tense on the wooden railing that his knuckles are stark white. His shoulders are rigid and taut, almost shaking with the strain.

He’s too far to hear any words I might say, drowned out by the chatter of everyone in the room. I think he can sense my wish, because he relaxes his body a touch, and taps his ring finger against the railing three times. I feel much of the residual stress escape me as I repeat the gesture back on the top of the podium in front of me. With a flash of a reassuring smile, he returns to his seat, never taking his eyes off of me. 

The door on the left side of the room swings open and Judge Crombie appears. I hadn’t even noticed he’d gone in the midst of my panic. The woman that brought the dog climbs down the stand and takes a seat on the far end of the wall. Darcy remains planted solidly next to me, much to my relief. I’m finding great comfort in this Irish Setter, and am already dreading the moment she leaves my side.

“Dr. Beauchamp-Christie, are ye’ okay to continue?” Judge Crombie says once the room has quieted.

“Yes, Your Honor.” I nod. “I’m sorry,”

“Dinna apologize. Let’s move on,” he bangs the gavel against his stand three times. “Court back in session. Mr. Randall, ye’ may proceed.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Frank says, albeit a tad shakily. Tom appears to be somewhat nervous as well. His long surgeon's fingers fidget with his pen and his foot taps continuously on the floor. Nevertheless, his face is still eerily blank, bordering on lifeless. Frank steps to his regular spot in front of the stand but remains silent. His eyes flit around my face, before settling to look into mine. “Are you sure you feel good enough to keep going?” he murmurs with what appears to be a look of… concern? In all the years I’ve known him, he’s always been a sensitive and caring man, regardless of his lethality in court. The side of him I’ve seen today is one I didn’t even think possible before.

“Yes, Mr. Randall. Thank you.” I say. “Could you please remind me where I left off?” my cheeks blaze with embarrassment. How stupid I must have looked to have everyone now checking in on me. He bobs his head once and turns to the man transcribing the trial.

“C. Christie: ‘I was laying on the floor of the kitchen as he repeatedly kicked me in the stomach. I tried to protect myself with my hands, but he wouldn’t stop.’” says the transcriber. 

“Continue on from there, if you will,” says Frank, now avoiding my gaze by looking at his feet as he strides. I put my hand back onto Darcy and use the movement of my petting to quell my lingering anxiety.

“That’s about the last thing I remember of him being there. I passed out not long after,” I say, proud of how steady my voice now sounds.

“When did you regain consciousness?”

“Once, after Mr. Fraser and Faith found me, but it wasn’t for more than a couple of minutes. The next time I truly awoke I was in the hospital after getting surgery on my left hand.” I place my left hand, now in a simple brace as opposed to the cast that adorned it up until earlier this week, up high enough for everyone to see.

“Ms. Mackenzie, could ye’ please present the records and photos of that injury once more?” Judge Crombie says, lightly tapping his nails on the dark oak.

“Of course, Yer Honor,” says Letitia, gathering a collection of papers and a large poster board from behind her. She hands off the stack of what I assume to be my hospital records to Crombie before placing the board on an easel situated to face the Jury. I had not seen this photo before the start of our working together on the case. It shows my horrendously disfigured hand before surgery. It is various shades of black and purple, with splotches of deep red blood where Tom had kicked me hard enough to where small pieces of bone were protruding from my skin.

One of the women in the Jury looks at the photo for only a split-second before turning her head sharply in the other direction.

“Thank you, Ms. Mackenzie.” says the Judge. Letitia removes the horrid photograph and places it back with the others she must’ve used while I was still unable to be in the courtroom. “Mr. Randall, ye’ may resume.”

“I just have one final question, Your Honor.” Franks’ normally clear, strong, steady voice quivers. He looks between Tom and me, a nervous sweat breaking out on his forehead. For the first time today, Tom appears absolutely enraged. He stares vehemently towards Frank, looking as if he’s about to jump out of his seat and throttle the man.  _ What on earth is happening?  _ I have never seen him give that look to anyone other than me before. Did Frank mess up? Is he not asking what he needs to be asking? My confusion must be obvious, as Frank removes his eyes from Tom and locks on me with complete, and utter sincerity. He gives a quick nod that I can’t interpret, before setting his shoulders and taking a deep breath. “Did Dr. Christie ever inflict intentional harm on Faith Elizabeth Christie in  _ any  _ capacity at all?”

Everything becomes apparent to me the instant the words leave his mouth. Frank Randall has flipped the case in my favor. By asking this as his final question to me, he’s letting my last words be the pain that Tom inflicted on our young daughter. Thankfully there is nothing serious to recount, but it’s enough to potentially sway the Jury to my side. Whatever plan he and Tom concocted falls away as he grants me this gift. I wish I had the ability to know what encouraged this change, but don’t question it. Letitia must realize this along with me. Her usually stern face is now hopeful, as well as a bit confused. 

“Yes,” I say, after being silent for a few moments too long. “He did,”

“Would you mind-,” Frank starts but is interrupted by Tom shooting up from his chair and slamming his hands on the table. The rolling chair flies backward with the force, almost crashing into a photographer stationed behind him.

“This is fucking ridiculous!” Tom screams. The sound in itself is enough to make me instinctively curl inward, only I’m stopped by Darcy sitting up and propping her paws onto my legs. “I would  _ never  _ lay a hand on my daughter!”   


“Dr. Christie, please be seated and conduct yerself properly in this courtroom!” Judge Crombie shouts, face turning red with anger.

“I will not!” Tom storms around the table and marches towards me. I to leap from my chair, startling the poor dog, and move back as far as I can, hitting my back roughly against the wall. “Claire, darling, tell them I would never hurt Faith.” one of the security officers swiftly grips his arms and pulls him away from me. 

“No,” I mumble, not nearly loud enough for anyone to hear me.

“Tell them!”

“Dr. Christie, you will be silent this instant!” Judge Crombie clangs his gavel loudly, the sound echoing throughout the entire room. Tom fights to get himself loose from the guard, prompting two more to appear and grab him.

“I will fucking kill you!” Tom howls, writhing wildly in an attempt to break free. “I swear to God you will not see another day-!” an officer claps a hand over his mouth as they forcibly drag him from the room. He keeps bellowing at me, but the words are muffled by the guard's hand. Once he’s out of the door, the court is silent for an instant before erupting into a cacophony of voices. 

The only security guard left in the room takes a hold of my arm and pulls me down from the stand and ushers me out of the courtroom. I don’t even have a millisecond to process anything as I become swarmed by people on all sides. 

“Are you alright, ma’am?” asks a guard that magically appears next to me.

“Y-y-yes,” I stutter, too stunned to formulate any other words. I’m quickly escorted through the building, down hallways I’d never been through before. It gradually grows quieter as we walk, and my heart begins to slow. Realistically, I know that Tom poses no threat to me right now. What with dozens of police and a hundred other civilians around. But the words he screamed to me rang with such familiarity I have to physically push the flashbacks away. Tom has the power, influence, and connections to get anything he wants. Could he really...?

“Sassenach!” I hear Jamie shout from somewhere nearby. I tear my arm from the grip of the guard and run towards his voice. The officers yell at me to come back, but I’m powerless to not find Jamie as soon as possible. I turn at a corner and find him at the other end of the hall.

“Jamie!” I exclaim, kicking off my heels so I can run to him as quickly as possible. His eyes land on me. I break into a sprint and crash into his arms with enough power to send him reeling back a few steps. His arms immediately encircle my body as I bury my head into his chest.

“Shh,” he soothes, running a hand through my hair that somehow escaped the confines of its knot at some point today. “It’s alright, mo graidh. Yer alright,” the feeling of his strong hold on me does instant wonders. My knees buckle beneath me with the release of the weight I’ve been carrying all day. Jamie senses this and gently lowers me to the ground.

“Jamie,” I cry, wishing I could literally fold myself into him.

“Dinna fash, lass.” he breathes. “Nothin’ can harm ye’.”

“He’s going to kill me,” I hiccup, not quite meaning for the words to come out. Jamie wraps himself tighter around me. 

“Ye’ ken he canna do that, Claire,” he says. “There’s no way in hell he’s walking away from this.”

“But he knows people who-,”

“Stop it, Sassenach.” Jamie pulls away to peer at me. “Yer panicking,”

“Of course I’m bloody panicking!” my fingers fumble with the button on my blazer, desperately trying to pry the damn thing off. “Jamie, I can’t breathe.” he pushes my hands aside and deftly undoes the buttons, and slides the blazer off my shoulders.

“Yes, ye’ can. Dinna make yerself hyperventilate,” I cease the panting I didn’t know I was doing and focus on the cool air now grazing my torso. 

“Jesus Christ,” I drop my head into the crook of his arm, completely ignoring how insane I must look, weeping on the floor without shoes and a coat.

“Just breath, Sassenach. I wilna’ leave until ye’ tell me to.” I sniff in a feeble attempt to stop the onslaught of tears.  _ I really am tired of crying all the time _ .

Jamie and I remain in the same position for what seems like hours but in reality, is only about ten minutes. He whispers quiet endearments while gently scratching my head. It really is rather marvelous how he is able to make me feel so safe so effortlessly. I can hear heeled footsteps approaching us, so I sit myself up and rub worthlessly at my ruined makeup.

“Claire,” says Letitia, crouching down to my level. “The Jury went straight to deliberation after ye’ left.”

“And? How long will they take?” my voice sounds scratchy and hoarse in my ears.

“They just finished,” she tells me.

“What?” I gape. “It’s been like four seconds!” Letitia chuckles and hands me my heels she must have picked up on her way over to me.

“After Dr. Christie’s little… display, they didna’ really need much time, I dinna think.” I turn to Jamie who appears just as shocked as me.

“Are they sayin’ the verdict now?” he asks.

“Aye, and they’re waitin’ on ye’.” she rises with a small grunt and walks back in the direction of the courtroom. Jamie stands first and offers me a hand up. He seizes my discarded blazer.

“Do ye’ feel like ye’ can breathe now?” he questions, seriously. 

“I think so,” I say, taking it from him and shrugging it on. “Although I can’t say for how much longer,” after slipping the buttons into place -taking far too many attempts for my liking,- I slide my heels back onto my feet.

“Ready?” Jamie holds out his hand and I accept it gratefully. I elect not to speak Instead, walking straight towards the decision of Tom’s fate. 

* * *

I’m seated back in the same place I was at the beginning of the trial. Jamie is on my right, my hand clasped firmly between the two of his, resting on his lap. I’m surprisingly calm. Despite the outlandish events from today, I have reached some semblance of peace. Peace or detachment. I’m not sure which. Either way, I don’t feel a shred of panic or fear.

Tom has returned to his place with his defense team, except he now wears handcuffs around his wrist and some sort of chain around his ankles. The shackles are in stark contrast to the crisply tailored suit he has on. Guards flank him on either side, standing so close to him that they’re likely touching his back.

“Will the foreperson of the Jury please rise?” Judge Crombie also appears to have calmed considerably. His face is no longer beet red, and his skewed wig has been righted atop his head. An older man in the Jury stands and crosses his hands in front of him. “Have you come to a verdict of which you all agree?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” the man says.

“Will the defendant please rise?” Tom stands with the help of the two officers. I can’t see his face from where I’m sitting, but can perfectly imagine the expression he is wearing. His right knee jiggles slightly, a nervous tic I don’t think he's ever been made aware of. “You may now read the verdict.”

My grip on Jamie’s hand tightens. He responds by running his thumb across my knuckles. My breath halts in my throat, frozen. 

_ This is it. This is finally it.  _ I still have not figured out which results I’m candidly hoping for. I pinch my eyes shut, not able to bear looking at anyone right now. 

_ Do I wish him guilty or not? _

Is the man I used to love worth the sacrifice of the man before me? Even if he is found not guilty, would we be able to find what we once had again? Is it possible to return to any semblance of our former lives?

The man begins, oblivious to the war raging inside me. 

“We the Jury, find the defendant Thomas Warren Christie, on the account of all charges of domestic violence, child abuse, assault and battery, attempted murder, and evasion…” at this moment, I have at last reached my own decision. 

I’ve long since come to terms with the fact that I can not change the man that Tom Christie is. It’s irrelevant how well he treated me, how much money he spent on me, or how much he loved me. He made his own choice. He did what he did. I can’t alter that and it’s pointless to try. My eyes fly open just as the foreperson of the Jury declares:

“Guilty.”

I release an audible gasp and flinch. Shockwaves of hundreds of different emotions pulse nonstop inside me. I strive to discern what the overwhelming one is, and settle on it. Catching it betwixt the swarm.

It’s relief. Relief to be finished with this trail. Relief to be able to go home and see Faith. Relief to at long last be unchained by Tom. I feel weightless, like the emotional reins he was keeping me on have been physically pried off. I feel myself sway on the bench, giddy with solace. 

Jamie is studying me, trying to gauge my reaction. My face splits into a grin, his following shortly after. He pulls my hands to his chest, placing them directly over his rapidly beating heart.

“It’s over,” I say over the roar of the crowd, drowning out the rest of whatever Judge Crombie is saying.

“Aye, ye’ did it.” I drag him to his feet and launch myself into his waiting arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! 
> 
> As I've stated in previous chapters, this story will be focusing on the healing process of both Claire and Faith, which is why the conclusion of the trial has come so early. I didn't want that to necessarily be the main focus, so I wanted to get it all out there.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed it!
> 
> PS: I'm thinking of starting an "Imagine Prompt" type story, where you all can leave ideas or suggestions for little one-shots. Would that be something you all are interested in? Let me know!
> 
> Hope you had a lovely Burns Day!! <3


	4. Mending and Mending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Faith?” I call out. “May I please come in?”
> 
> “No!” she shouts back, still slightly muffled.
> 
> “Please? Mommy is really sad that you’re angry with her.” I feel the burn of tears in the back of my eyes and try to push them away.
> 
> “I don’t care!” I sigh and push the door open anyway. Faith is lying face down on her bed, her hair splayed out all around her pillow. “Get out!”
> 
> “I’m not going to leave until you’re not upset,” I stand by the front of her bed with my hands placed on my hips. She turns to face the wall, away from me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh!! I'm so sorry it has taken me so insanely long to update!! Life has been very busy lately and I just have had no time to write. That is plainly evident in this chapter. By that I mean it's not great but hey! What are you going to do!

“We miss ye here, hen!” Geillis exclaims loudly through the speakerphone.

“I miss you all too,” I reply, placing the cup of cut fruit into Faith’s lunch bag. “Jamie hates gossip so I haven’t heard if anything interesting has happened. Anything to report?”

“No’ much. Nurse Hawkins got engaged but I’m sure ye saw that. Other than that it’s been verra boring wi’out everyone's favorite Sassenach.” 

“I’m sorry it’s been taking me so long to come back,” I bite my lip, returning the phone back to be pressed against my ear. It’s been nearly two and a half months since my last shift at the hospital. I used all of my sick days while I was recovering, and right after I ran out of those I took indefinite leave. Given the mad shuffle of trying to find a new CEO, it wasn’t too terribly difficult.

“Dinna apologize. Take all the time ye need.” Geillis reassures. “But that brings me to my main point. We havena gotten together properly in months A girls' night is a must. Doctor’s orders.”

“We’re geneticists, Geillis. Not physicians,” I smile. Faith runs down the stairs and straight into the kitchen, an armful of dolls in tow. I furrow my brows in question but she brushes by to put on her shoes.

“Aye that may be so, but I have a Ph.D. so it counts. Does tonight work for ye?” she asks. I hold the phone against my shoulder while I buckle Faith’s Mary-Janes.

“I don’t know,” I sigh. “It’s been so long since I’ve gone out. I’m not sure if I’m ready for all of that,”

“We dinna have to go  _ out _ out. We can just get all dressed up and drink wine in my flat.”  _ Bloody Scots, _ I think to myself. There’s likely zero chance that I’ll be leaving this call without plans with her. It’s not that I don’t want to see one of my closest friends. In fact, I have missed her tremendously in my time away. It’s that I still feel horrendously out of control.

It wasn’t until this week that I was able to return to my own home without Jamie. After the conclusion of the trial, while relieved with the turnout, I was terrified of Tom somehow sending someone after Faith or me. No matter how irrational that fear may have been, I was in a constant state of anxiety for several days. What if I went out with Geillis only to have to go straight back home because I’m too nervous to even step foot inside of a restaurant?

Jamie has been the only one privy to these thoughts of mine. He assures me over and over that I’m no longer in danger in any way at all. And while I feel safe and secure most of the time, the smallest most inconsequential things still set me off the deep end.

“I don’t know,” I repeat. “I-”

“Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, I wilna be taking no for an answer.” she interrupts. “So either ye say yes and we do this peacefully, or I drive over tonight armed to the teeth wi’ makeup and clothes and force ye. Yer choice,” I run a hand through my hair- or attempt to, as it’s currently so curly I can’t get my fingers all the way through,- and chuckle.

“Okay, fine.” I relent. “But are you sure it’s okay if we stay in instead of going out?”

“Of course it is!” she squeals. “I get to see Claire Beauchamp tonight!” I yank the phone away from my ear as she yells. I can’t help but grin at her childlike excitement at the idea of a wine night.

With the thought of children, I glance up to Faith who is now trying to shove her dolls into her backpack. I’ll need to call Marsali and see if she could watch her tonight. A small blessing of my being away from work is that I’ve been able to spend every free minute I have with Faith. It’s done wonders for both of us. I can’t recall in all her five years of life ever looking this happy and carefree. She’s almost constantly smiling, or laughing now. Even her recovery has become a balm for my aching heart.

“I’ll call the nanny in just a minute,” Faith’s head whips around to face me, eyes wide. She cocks her head to the side and recreates what I assume to be the exact same expression I gave her when she came down the stairs. “Let me call you back later, Geillis.” with a quick goodbye, I put my phone into the pocket of my sweatpants and place my hand on Faith’s shoulder. “Are you alright, darling?” I ask.

“Where are you going?” her voice quivers slightly, breaking my heart. “Why is Miss Marsali coming?”

“Oh sweetheart, I’m just going over to Auntie Geillis’ house. There’s nothing to worry about,” I’m again reminded of how Tom managed to damage my daughter without hardly laying a finger on her. Her therapist tells me that she’s making excellent progress in her sessions, but I can still see how deep some of these scars run.

“How long will you be gone?” she wraps her little arms around my neck and juts her knees forward to let me know she wants to be picked up. I do so with a small grunt. With the exception of my left hand -not splinted anymore, but still regaining strength,- I’m practically completely healed, but still much thinner and weaker than I was before. With Faith growing like a weed, it’s become increasingly more difficult to carry her around.

“Just for tonight,” I promise. “I’ll be back by the time you wake up,” while I rub soothing circles on her back, she begins to calm down. I can’t see her face, but know that she had started crying due to the wetness now accumulating where her face is pressed into my neck. “Shh, it’s alright. You’ll have fun with Marsali, right?”

“I don’t wanna stay with Miss Marsali,” she kicks her knee out again, this time hitting me in the side. 

“Don’t kick, sweetheart. It’s not nice,” at my words, Faith tries to wiggle herself out of my grasp and onto the floor. It proves to not be a difficult task as she lands on the hardwood in just seconds and scurries up the stairs. “Faith Elizabeth!” I call out, but to no avail. A door slams above me, causing me to jump. Taking five deep breaths, I force myself to calm down. I won’t be doing either of us any favors if I go up there already frustrated. 

Faith isn’t typically an over-emotional child. She has her moments just like any other kid, but she’s never been one for running away and crying. Perhaps she’s gotten used to having me home all the time now that the mere idea of spending a single night away sounds ludicrous. 

I take the stairs slowly, trying my hardest to not emulate the way Tom would climb them after a night of drinking. With Faith being in this delicate state at the moment, I need to do everything I can to attempt to diffuse the situation. It doesn’t help that we need to be leaving for school in ten minutes. 

When I reach the closed door, my heart breaks at the sound of her muffled sobs. I’ve been the one that she has turned to when upset for her entire life. The fact that she is now trying to shut me out is undoubtedly tearing me apart. I reach a gentle hand forward and knock lightly on the door.

“Faith?” I call out. “May I please come in?”

“No!” she shouts back, still slightly muffled.

“Please? Mommy is really sad that you’re angry with her.” I feel the burn of tears in the back of my eyes and try to push them away.

“I don’t care!” I sigh and push the door open anyway. Faith is lying face down on her bed, her hair splayed out all around her pillow. “Get out!”

“I’m not going to leave until you’re not upset,” I stand by the front of her bed with my hands placed on my hips. She turns to face the wall, away from me.

“I’m not upset,” she sniffs. 

“It’s okay if you are, sweetheart.” I put a careful hand on her shoulder and when she doesn’t pull away, I move to sit on the edge of the bed. “I want to make sure you’re okay, that’s all.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” she huffs, shoving her face into the duvet.

“Well, I want to talk to you. You don’t have to say anything.” I’m quickly losing the fight against my tears but keep them at bay. Every word out of her mouth feels like a knife in my gut and I wouldn’t be surprised if I suddenly keel over at any moment. “Is that okay with you?” Faith is completely still for a few seconds, then nods, still concealed by the blanket.

I take a steadying breath and wipe away the moisture collecting in my eyes. 

“Listen, baby,” I start, as soothing as I can. “I know how hard these last few months have been for you, I promise I do. You have had to be very, very strong for a long time and that is really difficult to do.” A new wave of sobs takes over Faith that finally breaks my resolve. I move the blanket away from her face and scoop her up into my arms, holding her in my lap. She doesn’t resist, instead, burying her head in my chest. 

“I’m sorry for how much you’ve had to go through, love, but I am so proud of you. So, so ridiculously proud. And I’m very grateful that we’re still here together. Isn’t that good?” I ask. I can feel her nod her head and sniff again, rubbing her nose against my shirt. My fingers comb through her hair while I rock her back and forth.

“So why are you leaving me?” she tilts her head up to look at me, eyes red and swollen and face patchy with tears. I smile softly down to her and cup her cheek.

“It’s only for one night, my love,” I assure her. “I’ll pick you up from school this afternoon, then Miss Marsali will come and-” I’m cut off by her suddenly shaking her head rapidly back and forth.

“I don’t want to stay with Miss Marsali anymore,” she pleads, eyes once again filling with tears. I furrow my brows and wipe away the ones that have already fallen down her face.

“Why not? You love spending time with her,” she shifts her amber eyes down to my necklace and begins to fidget with it, staying silent. “Faith, darling, please tell me.” Faith hiccups a bit and rubs her nose against her hand.

“She makes me think of Daddy,” she responds quietly. “And I don’t wanna think of Daddy anymore.”

“How does she make you think of Daddy?” Even though this is a conversation I desperately do not want to have, I can’t imagine how painful it must be for her to have suddenly had her Father ripped away without warning, and then heard close to nothing about him afterward. What kind of Mother am I to deny her the chance to discuss him with me?

“It makes me think of the time you got really hurt and Mr. Jamie came over and I was really scared.” We also have rarely talked about that day since I was released from the hospital. I know she must be harboring some severe trauma from seeing me like that, but I always assumed it was best to simply not mention it and hope she would forget in time. How foolish of me.

“That was very frightening for you, wasn’t it?” I ask, scratching her head in the same way I like. She nods again and drops my necklace to look up at me.

“I thought you were dead,” Faith says, in an eerily detached sounding way. I choke back a sob and steel myself.

“I know you did,” Jamie eventually told me everything that happened in the moments after Tom fled the house. Faith calling him in a panic, finding me bloodied and broken on the floor, him having to repeatedly reassure Faith that I was in fact still breathing. “Mr. Jamie said you were very, very brave that day.” her eyes suddenly widen and she moves to stand on either side of my legs, using my shoulder to hold herself steady.

“Can I stay with Mr. Jamie?” she asks, bouncing slightly on the bed. I chuckle at her rapid change in mood, eternally thankful that I too can quit thinking about Tom.

“I don’t know,” I reply. “I’d have to ask him if he has time.” Realistically, I know that Jamie would say yes to doing anything involving Faith. One could easily believe she was his actual daughter given how much he enjoyed spending time with her.

“Can you ask now?” Faith, already bored with standing still, starts to use my upper body as a jungle gym and attempts to situate herself on my shoulders. I release a real, genuine laugh as I pry her arms from around my neck.

“When did you turn into a monkey?” I ask. She giggles and immediately repeats her earlier attempts as soon as I release her arms. Deciding that she’s calmed enough to remove her from the room and continue to prepare her for school, I’m struck with an idea. “Hey, monkey?”

“Yes?” Faith slips from my arms when I reach the bottom of the stairs and peers up at me.

“How would you like to come to work with me for a bit to see Mr. Jamie and Auntie Geillis?” she instantly squeals and grips my thighs in a tight hug.

“Can we please? Please? Please?” she produces her very best puppy-dog eyes while pouting her lips.

“You don’t have to beg me, it was my idea.” I ruffle her hair with a grin. “Go grab your backpack. I’ll take you to school right after.”

* * *

I’ve been to the hospital since the incident for various appointments and such, but I’ve never made a point to return to the genetics wing. With my last memories being the fight with Jamie and my subsequent return to Tom, I had no wish to relive those moments. 

Now though, as Faith and I walk through the familiar halls, I feel as though I’m buzzing with excitement. I haven’t seen many of my closest friends in months and as much as I miss them, I also miss the general atmosphere of this wing. I’m hoping that I will be able to begin working again in short order.

When we reach the final set of doors, Faith releases my hand and flies through them. I follow shortly after, entering to the sound of an ecstatic cry of, “Faithy!” from Geillis. Faith already has her arms and legs around Geillis’ neck and waist when I spot them.

“Claire!” Geillis shouts -somehow louder than before,- and barrels towards me, wrapping her free arm around me. “Och, my sweet Claire, I’ve missed ye so much!” she says, holding me tighter against her. “Ye didna say ye were coming by today!” I pull away and grin at her.

“Well, I wasn’t planning on it but-” 

“Mr. Jamie!” Faith shouts, cutting me off. Geillis drops her onto the ground so she can run towards Jamie as he rounds the corner.

“The wee devil hasna seen me in months but look how quick she moves on.” Geillis sighs with a smile.

“If it makes you feel any better, I think Jamie has usurped me as favorite as well.” I laugh. Jamie swings Faith around through the air while she screams and giggles. “And I think Faith has usurped me as Jamies’ favorite. He hasn’t even said ‘hello’ yet!” Geillis cackles while drawing me in for a proper hug.

“I’ve missed ye so much, hen,” she says, significantly quieter. I squeeze her back as hard as I can to convey my shared feelings. “Are ye lookin’ to come back then?”

“Possibly,” I answer truthfully. “I’ll need to speak with Joe and some others to see if I’m even able to, given how long I’ve been away.” No doubt the decision will be between Joe, the head of the genetics department, and whoever the new hospital CEO is. My only hope is that it is not one of Tom’s old friends. I’m not sure who would’ve been next in line, but due to the monstrous amount of publicity the case and trial got, it wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest if there had been more shifting around.

“I dinna think it’ll be all that difficult,” Geillis flicks a dismissive hand through the air. “It’s no’ like ye actually quit.”

“That’s true,” I say with a slight shrug. “Have you heard anything about the new CEO?”

“Nah,” Geillis shakes her head. “After that bastard got arrested they did this whole sweep of upper administration. At least that’s what Dottie told me,”

“Did they fire more people?” I ask, astonished. While I mainly just had personal issues with most of Tom’s work colleagues, I had no idea it would stem that far.

“Phillip Wylie,” she smirks. “I hated that poor sod.” My eyes widen and I stifle a gasp. Wylie harbored Tom after he fled the house. He apparently knew of what he had done but was able to evade jail time due to him confessing everything within the week. Having loads of money likely helped him as well. 

A cacophony of feelings course through me at the thought of him, but I settle for a small, “Good,” and a nod. Thankfully, I’m broken out of my train of thought by Jamie approaching, Faith sitting high above me on his shoulders.

“Dinna fash, Sassenach. I didna forget about ye,” he says with a grin.

“It’s alright,” I say, tickling the back of Faith’s knee to make her giggle. “Someone was very anxious to see you today.”

“And ye didna want to see me?” Geillis exclaims with mock offense.

“You can’t lift me as high as Mr. Jamie,” says Faith. Now it’s Jamie’s turn to look offended.

“Is that all I’m good for then?” he says, tilting his head to look up at her. “Lifting ye up?”

“No!” Faith exclaims, sheepishly. “I like seeing Adso too,” 

“So yer usin’ me for my height and my wee cheetie?” Jamie says, swinging her off his shoulders and flipping her around in his arms to face him. “Ye break my heart, lass.”

“You also get me more ice cream than Mommy,” she adds, helpfully. Jamie smirks and props her upon his hip.

“Aye, I guess it’s alright then.” Jamie turns his gaze to me with a comically pointed expression. “Yer raisin’ a wee golddigger, Sassenach.”

“As I should be,” I respond with an indifferent lift of my shoulders. Jamie smiles and gives me a look I can’t quite decipher. His cat-like eyes soften a touch, and his wide mouth lifts gently at the corners. I can feel heat rising in my face, so I quickly turn away and face Geillis. “What time are you off tonight?”

“Six,” she answers slowly, looking between Jamie and me. “D’ye want me to pick ye up?”

“Oh no, I can drive. My physical therapist says I need to keep practicing with my left as much as possible.” 

“Ask him, Mommy.” Faith interrupts, trying but failing to whisper. Given the fact that Faith was still situated in Jamies’ arms -and she wasn’t at all quiet,- he heard her perfectly. He raises his eyebrows to me with a twitch of his lips.

“Ask me what?” feeling incredibly nervous with three pairs of eyes suddenly on me, I wring my hands together.

“Well,” I start. “Both Faith and I were wondering if you wouldn’t mind watching her tonight? If not it’s totally fine, I can call the nanny and-”

“I’d love to,” he cuts me off. “Ye dinna have to ask.” I release the breath I had been holding as Faith squeals in delight. With Jamie now preoccupied with an over-excited Faith, Geillis nudges my arm subtly.

“We’re talkin’ about this.” is all she says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is! I hope to have better updates in the future, but for now, I am so, so, so, sorry for this one. Hopefully, things will begin to slow down and I'll be able to better focus my time to write.
> 
> In the meantime, I hope you all enjoyed it and have a great day!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you for the kudos, bookmarks, and incredibly kind comments! Hope you all have a lovely, lovely day!


End file.
